C L Bledsoe

 

Only Tell Me Which Is Which

 

Goodbye to Noise

     

 

 

I am Woodrow Wilson in Indiana. I am Margaret Sanger before Ernst Rudin.  Consider Sir Francis Galtonís hairy knuckles exposed while reading his cousinís book. Consider Alexander Graham Bellís high stepping cattle as shown to the American Breeders' Association.  Iím talking about regression towards the mean. I'm talking about the rising ape. The men of Tuskegee are only numbers. There are no choices, only a general downward slide. We need a loan from the genius bank. We must sever the posterior from posterity. We must breed men like carthorses. Catch the falling angel and steal its wings. Weíve got to get the feeble-minded off the tax payersí backs. We hold each other back.

 



 

 

 

 


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